why I cannot forgive
by magic sparkler
Summary: ONE SHOT: just a quickie to keep you going, shot as we explore the mind of a character we all love to hate! . Why he is so bitter, why he is so emotionless and most importantly he’s true feelings on display


_Summary: one shot – just a quick one shot as we explore the mind of a character we all love to hate! I am sure we can all guess who it is. Why he is so bitter, why he is so emotionless and most importantly he's true feelings on display. Book six is disregarded, although it really doesn't matter if it is included or not._

**Why I cannot forgive**

I'm never wrong.

I'm not allowed to be wrong.

For as long as I remember all I have heard is how I was due for greatness, how I was suppose to accomplish something better and more honour worthy than the generation before, to keep in with my family. One of the longest and richest families in the wizarding world.

My father was my main influence.

He drummed into me what was expected.

To do well in life.

Apply myself to work,

Apply myself to 'worthy' causes,

Grow,

Meet girl, (pure blood Slytherin of cause)

Marry,

Roll in the family money.

And of course: serve our Lord.

I always felt so over powered and so insignificant compared to my father. He was tall, strong and proud to me, a mere child. My mother remained quite docile, a silent, still figure throughout my childhood; allowing him to so as he pleased.

I always felt a disappointment. I felt little and scrawny…..

No help at all…..

Useless……

A useless child.

When people said I looked like my father, instead of his chest puffing out with pride, he simply nodded; as though the fact was painful for him. Panic coursed through me every time I heard this, it always reminded me of how much I wasn't wanted.

I decided early on…..

Perhaps to early….

That the only why he would want me was if I became… useful.

So I read.

And I read.

From a small age I barricaded myself in the library, reading volume after volume, absorbing welts of information. I found my great love of potions through doing this; I could brew a potion… no hassle and no wand motion…

I felt a great sense of power when I watched the simmering solutions I created.

I soon realised that being powerful wasn't everything that my time would come, and when it did I vowed to be ready, ready to prove myself. I found easier and more accrete ways to brew many of the potions I concocted, and delved into the dark arts found on the father's 'forbidden' shelves.

It fascinated me,

Even as a small boy I knew that the books were what my father wanted me to be.

Sop I memorised more.

_My childhood taught me to be emotionless…_

Even when I received my Hogwarts letter there was barely a smile let alone a celebration. My mother gave me a tight hug. I don't think a bond was ever created, never mind existed between us. The hug (the only one I can remember) felt cold, and I remember stiffening in her arms. It was a horrendous moment… it was the first time I realised I actually felt no love for my own mother. Her job was simply to find me an wife. My father nodded.

That same nod.

The nod that told me it wasn't good enough.

But this time… I nodded back.

I wanted to show I could do whatever he could. I had learnt excitement was pointless years beforehand, but I knew that this was nothing compared to what was expected of me to achieve.

_School taught me I was a loner…._

From the moment I stepped through those huge oak doors I felt isolated. My father got his wish when I was sorted into Slytherin, where friends didn't exist, only acquaintances. Of course I was pleased. Less pressure on my part, and it was all I had been taught. I got along with the people in my house well enough, after all most of us processed the same goal. But every one of us that meant was the same. Yourself was your priority,

A few weeks into school I discovered how advanced with the dark arts I actually was. At the time I assumed word simply got around I didn't realise I knew more than most of the seventh years who had just left, and the older Slytherins were simply jealous and knew by spreading it they would give me a harder time in school.

I made immediate enemies. They were in the same year as me and in the Grythidor house, everything I believed in, they didn't. they later dubbed themselves the Marauders.

Peter Pettigrew seemed harmless enough, a chubby, short and annoying boy with watery eyes, scared of his own reflection. I never sussed how he came to be in Grythidor house, and I never wasted my energy on him. He was simple minded and irritated me endlessly with the way he followed the others about, as though they were Gods. He also seemed to think everything they did to me was hilarious, which in some ways, was more annoying than the actual act. Yet he was the first to run from a fight. He was an easy target easy for me to call squib or gormless to get at his friends who were my true targets.

I hated Remus Lupin because he was what I wanted to be. He was like me in the way of studious, and excelled at defence against the dark arts, which was where he was the only one to beat me. Yet he had friends. I studied as much as him, yet I was treated as a hermit. He was treated as someone worth knowing. He had a firm, ever lasting friendship, and when I eventually found out what he was, I hated him more for this. How could they think he was fine, and hated me? Nothing made sense to me. He was the one who didn't participate in our fights, and didn't laugh if something happened to me; yet I hated me, he stood and watched, and was in awe as much as Pettigrew to not stop them.

Sirius Black was some one who enjoyed our confrontations immensely. In later years I'd come to realise it was him fighting out at what he had escaped from, proving he wasn't dark. Of course id heard of the infamous Black family, my father spoke as though I must respect them, but I just could not respect Sirius Black, it was a great relieve when I was told of him being disowned by his family, now I actually had an excuse to fight him. He usually came up with the insults which cut me up. It wasn't him saying them, but rather what I believed my father thought of me. It reminded me of the bitter disappointment I was, so I retaliated, the war between us escalated into pure hate, in some ways I did envy Black. He had the courage to do what I never would, stand up to his father.

Finally, James Potter….of course id also heard of the Potter family, but my father tutted at the name. They were too high ranked to disrespect, yet my father did not agree with their cause, as a pure blood family, he believed they should not support anything less then a full blood line. James potter and Sirius Black together were invincible; they were a shield that no one could penetrate. Their friendship even I realised went beyond just friends. I probably resented him the most, he was brilliant at anything he did, popular and more, Black was the same, yet he didn't have the same aurora as Potter….

I envied it…..

When Potter grew into what I can now see was a mature respectable person, I could not follow, and I wanted to keep our war going, to prove I was better than them.

That night that changed everything…. Was one I'm not likely to forget…. Potter had been keeping Black at bay for a while, when I caught him alone and said something about his brother which must have affected him quite badly, and said that if I was so nosy into our business and just to shut me up and to stop me following them I should follow Lupin out to the grounds and touch the knot on the Walloping Willow. Like an idiot, I followed Blacks orders.

To this day I do not know why…..

I had been walking down a tunnel for maybe ten minutes, my wand held high when I heard heavy footsteps behind me, I turned to see Potter running hard and fast straight into me. He grabbed me and began dragging me out, yelling, telling me that we had to get out…..

Since when do I listen to Potter.

I knew he was protecting Lupin, I just didn't know what from… I wanted dirt…..

I retched myself free and run, Potter was faster, but I managed to get to the end,

I managed to attract the attention of a werewolf….

I froze.

I was barely aware of Potter practically carrying me out.

When we got on to land, I look up to see Black, very pale and clammy, who quickly conjured wooden planks and boarded up the willow entrance. Then helped up potter off the ground who seemed to be in slight shock. I remained the ground…. Completely shocked…..

Lupin… a werewolf… I didn't like him but he just wasn't like that.

Potter and Black hugged before potter seemed to realise what he was doing… he drew back and punch Black squarely in the face….

They had quite the argument before Dumbledore discovered us……

I was obviously sworn to secrecy….

The next day the four boys were no where to be seen,

Then the following day, they seemed to the outside world to be normal…. Even if Lupin was slightly jumpy.

The young man I was, I thought Potter was in on the prank, I refused to acknowledge the life's debt I owed him. Even if he didn't want anything. The only thing he requested was that I kept Lupin's secret. Dumbledore had threatened me with expulsion so I wasn't going to risk it anyway, but the thought of Potter's noble act, and not forcing me into anything, made me start to rethink him completely, although I kept up our war, hating him with a passion for being so dam stubborn…….

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As I look over my class of fourth year students, I sneer slightly in case one is looking m way. I have keep up pretences after all…

In the back I can see three heads bent over a cauldron, and the other side I can see my own Slytherins, namely Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle, leaving their work to Pansy, who was doing a horrendous job. I look back to the Grythidor side. A mane of bushy hair looks up and frowns over the page, trying to see through the mist, as a red head cuts up daisy roots, as the dark haired one stirs the cauldron.

Every time I look at Harry potter I am reminded of his father…

It is impossible not to….

It reminds me of my stupidity and pure hatred that I felt then….

I approach….

"Potter what is this suppose to be" I sneer. Its impossible not to when he looks up and all I see id the face of someone who torments my thoughts.

"Sorry professor" she mutters as he looks down.

"Ten points potter for not remaining in eye contact when you give a professor an apology" I can see his mouth open but I feel better…. Which then makes me feels worse. I walk back to my desk and pretend to be grading….

I just cannot forgive that face….

I cannot forgive James Potter for proving me wrong………..


End file.
